


Sixth Night

by Gleennui



Category: Glee
Genre: Hanukkah, Hiatus fic, M/M, Tumblr: fuckurtadvent, anonymous gifting, because really who else knows puck's combination, but not really anonymous, cheesy gifts, post-beth reveal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-09-09 17:32:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8903851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gleennui/pseuds/Gleennui
Summary: Finn knows he shouldn't be doing this. He knows he should be too angry. But that doesn't stop him from standing in the empty McKinley hallway on the sixth night of Hanukkah, holding an absurdly large gift in his hand. For Fuckurt Advent-- Day 18





	

Last chance.   
  
It’s all so fresh--Finn feels hot and cold every other time he thinks about it, along with the constant throbbing pain in the back of his head. It’s anger, Finn tells himself. Anger is something he knows, even though anger at  _ Puck _ is a brand new feeling. But he must be angry. Of course he’s angry. What else could it be?   
  
Still here he is, with his fresh hot-cold angry feelings, pacing back and forth in front of their lockers. He’s already ducked into a classroom twice when he heard heels coming his way, even though there shouldn’t be anyone in this part of the building so late. Finn’s run out of excuses now, though, and he’s also run out of days in Hanukkah. Not days where Puck will be in school, anyway. If Finn wants to do this--and he’s about 87% sure he does, despite what he thinks he  _ should _ want--he has to do it now.   
  
It’s a dumb gift, Finn knows. It’s dorky and cheesy and absurdly huge and it cost him the rest of his lawn-mowing money, but he’s still standing in front of Puck’s locker, holding the blue-and-white wrapped present in front of him like he’s holding a-- well. Finn shakes his head at himself and spins the combination.  
  
He can’t do this. It’s ridiculous. Puck doesn’t even drink coffee, and definitely not enough to fill the size of the giant mug Finn’s still holding tight in his hand even with Puck’s locker open and an empty space on the top shelf staring right at him. But buying it, seeing the “New Daddy” written in silly cursive on the green mug, had made the throbbing pain go away for just a couple minutes. Finn thinks that might have been worth it.   
  
Finn doesn’t look at the inside of Puck’s locker door. He knows what’s there. He remembers that photobooth at the county fair in eighth grade when they’d shared a candy apple the size of their heads because they’d already spent the rest of their money on the claw machine. Finn’s stomach turns a little at the memory, and he tells himself it must be because they’d eaten themselves almost sick that day.   
  
There’s enough room on the shelf for Finn to nudge the mug back a little bit so it can’t fall out when Puck throws his locker open Friday morning. He lets out a huge breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding when he steps back and looks. Puck will probably notice it by his third period locker stop before his nap. Finn doesn’t know if he wants to be around for that or not, and finally decides he should probably go home to think it over. He won’t be doing much sleeping, he figures, so he’ll have plenty of time.   
  
Finn shuts Puck’s locker with a little more force than he means, and he jumps at the noise in the empty hallway. He knows he doesn’t have anything to feel guilty about, not really, but he looks around anyway, and he’s pretty sure that’s what their English teacher means when she talks about irony.   
  
He looks back at their lockers one last time before pulling his coat up over his chin and tugging his hat on for the chilly walk home. It’s cold, but not so cold that it hurts, and Finn’s almost all the way home before he realizes something:  
  
His head feels completely fine.   
  
Happy Hanukkah, Puck.    
  


  



End file.
